


- sine cura - without a care -

by otter



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otter/pseuds/otter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SG-1 are held prisoner while Daniel attempts to free them through diplomatic means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	- sine cura - without a care -

When the Jaffa removed the shackles and escorted what was left of SG-1 out of the darkness and into the palace, Jack considered it a step up. Teal'c and Carter were locked away in private chambers, and when he was escorted into his own room -- with food and water and oh dear God look at that, a bathtub -- Jack rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and muttered, "It's about damn time, Daniel. Diplomatic solution, my ass."

He put the platter of food and water on the floor next to the tub, and munched happily on some kind of cracker as he fiddled with the -- thank the Lord Almighty -- hot and cold running water. He had to refill the tub with fresh water three times, but after an hour or so soaking in the water and steam, he finally got all the grime off and felt nearly human again.

He was almost too tired and loose and half-asleep to haul himself out of the tub, but when the water stopped being hot enough to make his skin tingle, he pulled the plug out of the drain and stumbled to his feet. He gave himself a cursory swipe with the towel, and in the time it took to walk from the tub to the bed, he told himself three times very firmly that Daniel was fine, wherever he was.

Then he fell face-first into the sinfully comfortable nest of sheets and blankets and pillows, and sank instantly into sleep.

When he woke it was much more slowly than he would've liked, and his head felt fuzzy and detached. Every muscle in his body was burning; he gave a moment's thought to poisoning, but he figured that it was more likely just endless hours of hard labor catching up to him.

It was only after he took stock of these aches and pains, and groaned to himself about the injustice of it all, that he noticed the hand curled over his wrist, and Daniel's face very close to him in the shadows of the room.

Jack said, "Daniel," and his voice was a hollowed-out whisper from a tight throat, as if he'd never uttered a word aloud before.

Daniel's teeth were a faint gleam when he smiled in the low light, and he leaned a little closer. "Jack," he whispered. "Are you okay?"

Jack grunted and rolled over, sitting up and scooting back so Daniel could perch on the edge of the bed. "I've had better days," Jack said. He scratched at his almost-beard and wished for a razor. "Weeks, really. I've had much better weeks. Tell me good news, Daniel."

Daniel dropped his eyes and his fingers toyed with the corner of a blanket, which meant that he didn't really have any good news. "I'm still working on it, Jack," he said. "The King is very... distrustful."

"Paranoid," Jack said, enunciating very clearly to make sure that Daniel was hearing him loud and clear. "'Insane' is the sort of word I might choose."

The corner of the blanket became half of a soft, fuzzy pyramid under Daniel's fingers. He said, "I know. But hey, I got you better accommodations, didn't I? Pretty nice, huh?"

Jack said, "Uh huh. It hasn't been properly Feng Shui'd, but it'll do for the night."

Daniel straightened out the edge of the blanket, laid it flat, stroked it a few times with his fingertips to get the wrinkles out. Then he reached out and over and stroked again, only this time his fingertips ran over the thick veins on the back of Jack's hand.

Jack snatched his arm away from those seeking fingers, curled his hand protectively in his lap, and leaned a little closer to Daniel to squint at his face.

Daniel's eyes were fever-bright in the gloom, practically sparking, and there was a smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. Jack had seen this expression on Daniel before: after too many beers, or in the infirmary post-injury when Daniel was flying high and untouchable through the morphine haze.

"Goddammit, Daniel," Jack hissed. "You're *stoned.*"

The smile broke out, twisted across Daniel's lips like a belly-dancer, all sensuous movement and promising curves. Jack realized too late that he was leaning much too close. Daniel closed the distance and caught his lips.

It was unexpected and baffling and kind of good, really, but Daniel was extremely high and Jack was so tired he was in danger of falling asleep sitting up. Jack put his hands on Daniel's shoulders and pushed, but he was weaker than he'd thought or Daniel was stronger than he thought, because Daniel didn't move much. There was enough distance between them now that Jack's lips were free, but Daniel was already pressing close again, nipping at Jack's collarbone and humming contentedly against the skin.

Jack said, "Daniel, this isn't you, you don't--" but Daniel was pushing him back down into the blankets and the weight of him over Jack's hips, pinning Jack to the bed, actually felt pretty nice.

Daniel whispered right against Jack's ear, "We'll just say the aliens made us *do it*," and then he pressed down and squirmed in a way that made parts of Jack less inclined to argue with events.

He wasn't sure he would've had a say anyway; Daniel was already shrugging out of his weird alien robes, tossing them away and onto the floor, and Jack hadn't been wearing anything in the first place. Suddenly they were skin to skin, impossible warmth pouring from both of them, and Daniel's breath was hot against his throat, Daniel's body rocking against his. Daniel kissed his throat again and whispered, "It's okay, Jack, it's okay," and apparently it was okay that Jack was exhausted and boneless, punch-drunk tired, and the best that he could do was to grunt and push up just a little to meet Daniel's thrusts with his own. Every rough slide of skin on skin was like striking stone to flint, like little sparks were sheeting between them and making Jack burn from the inside out.

The bed was soft, and Daniel was solid and warm, and coming was like sinking to the bottom of the ocean and learning to breathe water.

When he woke again, Daniel was long gone, but Jack wasn't alone. The girl was standing in the open doorway, staring at him. Her body was a rigid shadow, all straight black lines and tightly clenched fists. She turned to the Jaffa next to her and said, "My father has changed his mind. They're to be returned to the mines and worked hard until they die. They will be an example to the other workers."

Jack still wasn't quite awake, but he was awake enough to understand what was happening, and awake enough to scramble back into his own filthy clothes before the Jaffa could drag him out naked. The shackles went back on. The Jaffa prodded at his back with a staff weapon and growled at him to move, and the princess watched it all with her hooded eyes and fixed expression.

Jack said, "The Daniel you want so much is the one you're destroying with that sarcophagus." The Jaffa muttered something uncomplimentary and shoved again, so hard that Jack nearly toppled over. Jack shuffled his feet to recover his footing and said, "He isn't going to love you. He doesn't remember what love is anymore."

If Shyla made any reply, it was drowned out by the rattling of Jack's chains.

\- the end -


End file.
